The Couch
by Schildkroete
Summary: There is a couch in Kirk's quarters and he likes it a lot, even though he never uses it. K/Mc, established relationship.


There was a couch standing in Captain Kirk's quarters. There wasn't a point to it, he'd used to think – after all, he rarely had the chance to sit on it. Due to his work, the captain of a starship spend a lot less time in his private rooms than any other person on board, with the possible exception of the first officer. And the CMO. Well, and Scotty, really, but that was his own decision.

Kirk was the only one on board with a couch. Bones had commented on that, once, pointing out the wisdom of placing furniture into the room of the person by definition least likely to use it. The next day, when Kirk came back from his shift, the doctor was lying on the thing, curled up and dozing.

It had something to do with genetics, Bones claimed later. Sometimes he had so much to do that the time between his shifts left him little chance to get enough sleep. He would try to give his body as much rest as possible but sleep wouldn't come. Other times, he had been working forever and was stressed and exhausted, and yet his body remained ready to jump and wouldn't let him find the rest it craved. In the first case it was the knowledge that in far too short a time he would have to get up anyway that kept him from sleeping – Kirk knew that well enough himself. In the second case, it was as if his body had forgotten how to shut down. This, too, was something the captain was familiar with. He defeated the phenomenon with pills. McCoy defeated it with the couch.

A couch, he'd explained, was a natural environment for naps. It wasn't a bed so the body didn't expect anything permanent it might want to fight, but it was comfortable, and gave them a chance to stretch out their legs and maybe close their eyes for just a minute – and before they knew it, sleep came upon them. This was tradition for human bodies, an instinct that had become written into their genes, surfacing whenever a couch was presented to them in a state of exhaustion. Pure science. Kirk dared to suspect he was talking pure nonsense, but he never complained, because for Bones it worked.

And Jim Kirk really didn't mind coming home to find him curled up on his couch like a cat.

"I could have the thing taken to your quarters," he had felt he should offer one day, even though the idea didn't appeal to him at all. "I never sleep on it anyway." To his relief, Bones had sleepily blinked up at him and shaken his head. "It works best if it's somebody else's couch." And so the couch, and Bones, had stayed.

-

As so often, McCoy was already there when Kirk entered his living room, but he couldn't have come long ago. For once, he was not dozing, but sitting on the couch, his head resting on his arm resting on the back, at watched the captain without a word as he came over. He was still in his lab shirt and looked even more tired than Kirk felt.

"How's the arm?" he asked in a voice that didn't sound very sympathetic. Kirk moved the limb in question and winced.

"Fine."

"Right. And how's the leg?" Kirk's leg hurt with every step.

"I'm not feeling anything anymore."

McCoy snorted. "I'm so glad this ship has a captain whose injuries heal in miracle time, despite never getting the opportunity to do so at all." He seemed to be in a Mood. Kirk sighed.

"Long day?"

"Made longer by you. I was about to head to bed when your landing party returned."

"That was eight hours ago. What did you do in the meantime? Don't tell me you insisted on patching up everyone yourself, since you happened to be there already."

"Eight hours that are not usually enough time for injuries like that to disappear completely," the doctor said, ignoring his question. "I'm glad I know you're Superman, else I would be forced to think you were lying to me."

Rolling his eyes, Kirk sighed again and let himself fall onto the couch beside McCoy. Reaching out with his good arm, he pulled the slight man down until his head was lying on Kirk's chest.

Bones blinked up at him with warm blue eyes. "You piss me off, Jim."

"I know. It comes with the job."

"No, it doesn't. I've met a lot of captains who were selfless and heroic and all that crap and still managed to do their job without driving their crew crazy by jumping off every cliff they come across. Really, sometimes I feel like knocking you out and tying you to the hull of a starting shuttle, since your life doesn't seem to mean that much to you anyway. How's that for satisfying your need to be in constant peril?"

"Bones," Kirk said patiently. "I have duties as captain."

"Duties that Spock can do when you are not up to them. That's his job. There was absolutely no reason not to stay in bed and let your body heal. If you'd done that, you'd be fine tomorrow. Like this, I'd say you'll be in pain for at least a week." And after a heartbeat, he added, "And you damn well deserve it."

How many times did they have this argument? "I was up to do my work. These injuries have no effect on my ability to give orders and take care of the ship. I'm the man best suited for the job, and I was available. It was…"

"Don't say 'logical'! If you say that, I swear I will walk out of that door and never come back."

"What, and leave my couch to myself?" Kirk smirked. Without any further word, the doctor got out of his arms and off the couch. Jim pulled him back.

"Just kidding," he said. "I don't even like this couch without you on it."

With a weary sigh, Bones closed his eyes. "Just don't do that again, Jim."

"I promise," Jim assured him, kissing the top of his head, and of course they both knew it was a lie.

Weary and aching, but also warm and comfortable with the soft couch under him and Bones's warm body against his, Jim relaxed and let the tension of the day drain out of his limbs. His injured arm was resting in his lap, his other hand he stroked through Bones's soft hair, until he felt the doctor relax and his breath became even. Seeing the soft smile on his face, Jim felt more accomplished than he had all day.

He was tired and his bed was but a few metres away. But Jim saw absolutely no reason for moving. Listening to Bones's soft breathing, he let his thoughts drift away.

James T. Kirk never slept on his couch, unless Leonard McCoy slept on it as well.

October 4, 2009


End file.
